Hexes and Exes

by Sarina Dorie

  “No, you may not.” Bart snorted and shook himself. “Does this look like a petting zoo? Do you think I let just anyone touch me?”

  Maddy stepped off the path toward Bart, not in the least deterred, but I grabbed onto her sleeve. “You go walk over to the greenhouse ahead of me. I need to have a word with that unicorn. Privately.”

  “But you’re my chaperone. I have to stay with you.” She grinned, her eyes locked on Bart’s sparkly rainbow mane.

  I turned her back onto the path. “Just wait for me outside the greenhouse where I can see you. I need to talk to Bart for a minute.” As long as she was within my sight, I was certain no one would try to kiss her.

  My more pressing problem was getting Bart off school grounds. The last thing I needed was to get in trouble for inviting unicorns on our campus again. Actually, the last thing I needed was for Bart to tell students I had touched his porn horn.

  I strode over to Bart, glancing at Maddy to make sure she listened to me and stayed on the path. She continually glanced over her shoulder and waved at Bart. He ignored her.

  “Hi, Bart,” I said, feeling über awkward as I hastened toward him. “Um, how’d you get onto school grounds? I thought it was warded against Fae.” Or warded against Fae who hadn’t been invited onto school property like Mr. Khaba. Or like Julian Thistledown who had been a teacher and had been clever enough to conceal what he was.

  Bart shook his head and snorted. “Unicorns aren’t Fae. We’re free spirits, and we don’t belong to any courts.”

  Unicorns were magical beings that belonged in the Faerie Realm according to the books Thatch had given me to read for my studies, therefore they were Fae.

  I glanced behind me to make sure there weren’t any students coming. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t allowed on school grounds. The teachers freaked the last time you were here.” Had it only been September when he and the Singing Stallions had charged onto campus, me riding on Bart’s back as he brought me back to the school after a sucky outing with Julian?

  They’d been trying to save me from a sexual predator. Now I had used Bart, and I felt as though I’d become one. An icky feeling wormed its way up my esophagus. I couldn’t meet Bart’s gaze.

  “I won’t stay long,” Bart said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

  I clenched and unclenched my cold hands. I blurted out, “I feel horrible about asking you for samples. Thatch made me do it to get the ingredients for a spell. You must hate me. I really am sorry. I can understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.” Tears filled my eyes.

  “Huh?” he asked. “Samples?”

  “He wanted unicorn semen.” I whispered. “For his spell.”

  Bart’s brow furrowed. From the confused look he gave me, I wondered if I’d incorrectly guessed his reasons for sneaking onto the school grounds. “I thought that was why you were here—to tell me what a horrible human being I am.”

  “What? No way! You can collect my rainbow juice anytime you want!” His words came out more loudly than was appropriate.

  “Shh!” I put a finger to my lips. I grabbed a handful of his mane and pulled him toward the forest. The topiary animals turned their heads to watch. I prayed they weren’t going to gossip about what I’d done.

  I whispered. “Can you keep your voice down so I don’t get in—”

  “Holy harpies! This is hilarious! So . . . you think you might need more samples from this horny unicorn? Get it? Horny?”

  “I got it. And no, it’s unlikely.” I glanced over my shoulder at the greenhouses. I was going to be late. It wasn’t like I was a student who would get a detention, but I didn’t want Professor Bluehorse to think I was ditching her class.

  I couldn’t see Maddy anymore either. She wasn’t supposed to go into the greenhouse without me.

  “I don’t want to be rude or anything, but I have a class to go to,” I said. “Is that the only reason you came here?”

  “No. I had to warn you about Felix Thatch. He’s evil.”

  “Thanks, I’ve kind of figured that out already.”

  Bart bristled, clearly not satisfied by my response. “He would make an unsuitable mate for you. His soul is incomplete. Plus, he’s too old for you. He looks like he’s thirty-five, and you’re what—sixteen?”

  “No, I’m twenty-two.” My patience was wearing thin. “Thank you for that assessment, but you don’t have to worry. We aren’t dating, and we aren’t going to.” I pointed to the forest. “Now I need you to go.”

  “Sure thing. How about we continue this conversation later tonight? Nothing fancy, just a little picnic or something by moonlight, me and my human?” He tossed back his mane, glitter sprinkling around him in a cloud. It was glorious to behold.

  “Um. . . .” I tried to think of an excuse before my social ineptitude got me in more trouble. “It’s a weeknight. I don’t usually go out on weeknights because of work. Plus, it’s really cold out.”

  “Just to be clear, when I said a picnic, I didn’t mean like a date or anything. I just thought we could hang out as friends. We have a special bond, and I want to make sure I don’t neglect you.” He pranced back and forth, sunlight glistening across his rainbow mane. “And if you do decide you need more rainbow juice, I’m happy to oblige.”

  “Thatch has enough.”

  “You can never have too much rainbow juice. You should ask how much he needs. I’ll come back next week when you have classes in the greenhouse on Monday and see if you want to set up a date—I mean—to hang out.” He trotted off.

  “Wait a minute! How do you know which days I have classes out here? Have you been watching me?”

  He cantered off into the forest, his tail glittering in the morning light. I had a feeling my life would have been easier if he had been angry with me and hated me.

  A sharp scream punctuated the quiet morning. Annoyance percolated through me that someone had spotted Bart and now I was in trouble. The scream came again. Fear seized me as I realized it was Maddy.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Siren-Dipity

  Craptacular. I had allowed my poor judgment to persuade me from making the right decision again. I had left my charge alone, and now I was about to pay the price—or worse yet—Maddy was about to pay the price.

  I ran out from between the hedges, finding Maddy waiting outside the greenhouse where I had told her to stay. She’d backed up into a hedge of laurel and pointed at two figures rolling on the frozen ground. I raced toward her.

  “They’re fighting!” she said.

  As if I hadn’t figured that out from the way they were punching each other. From the red hair and flashes of freckles, I took one of the boys to be Ben O’Sullivan. The mop of black hair and pointed ears signaled the other boy was his partner in crime, Balthasar Llewelyn. I grabbed him by the point of the ear, and he yelped.

  I hauled him off his frenemy. “What are you two doing?” I demanded.

  Balthasar squirmed out of my grip. “Nothing. We were just playing.” He said it with an airy laugh. Blood smeared his lip where it had been split.

  Ben leapt to his feet, placing an arm around his buddy’s shoulder. “That’s right. We weren’t fighting. Just messing around.” He already had the start of a black eye.

  Clearly, they were both lying because they didn’t want to get in trouble.

  “Do either of you even have a class with Professor Bluehorse this period?” I asked.

  “No,” Maddy answered. “They told me they were cutting class because they couldn’t stand being away from me. Then they started fighting over me.” She clenched her fists at her sides. “Like I want either of you.”

  Ben winked at her with his good eye. “But if you were going to choose one of us, it would be me, right?”

  Balthasar apparently couldn’t allow his friend to outdo him. “But you think I’m hotter, right?”

  Maddy stared at them, mortified. “You’re both idiots.”

  I pointed to the architectural monstrosity that p
assed for a school. “Go to class. Your class. Not other people’s classes. Both of you have detentions after school. And if I find you out here again, I will personally escort you to Professor Thatch’s room, and he’ll deal with you as he sees fit.” It was a bluff, but they didn’t know it.

  They immediately ran off toward the octopus-like structure of boxy buildings and mismatched wings that made up the school. Our school reminded me of Howl’s moving castle—only on crack. The melting pot of architectures and materials seemed to symbolize the mishmash of magics and abilities present at the school among the students and staff.

  I turned to Maddy. “Ready for some plant magic?”

  Her pretty face pinched into a grimace, blue flushing to her cheeks. Some of the shimmering opal quality of her skin had returned. “I hate boys. They’re so immature and stupid. Why does my magic have to attract morons?”

  I considered my encounter with Bart and his newest obsession—me. “I ask myself the same question. If you figure out the answer, let me know.”

  At lunch, I found Thatch sitting in the cafeteria at the table on the dais where teachers took shifts watching students eat. Usually he got out of lunch duty, but Jeb was out fundraising again, and the principal wasn’t there to watch students.

  I served myself a scoop of what I suspected would be bland and disappointing soup and a portion of salad from the community bowl. I liked salad, and all the vegetables were fresh from the school’s garden, but the school didn’t have money for salad dressing. I noticed Thatch had a glass bottle of ranch that he’d gotten from somewhere. I reached for it, but he raised a hand, and it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  “Really?” I asked. “You aren’t going to share salad dressing with me?”

  He examined a forkful of salad, not deigning to answer.

  I seated myself next to him. “I need to talk to you about Bart.”

  He spoke in the unenthusiastic monotone he reserved for our every interaction. “What’s his last name, and what period do you have him?”

  “Bart isn’t a student. He’s a unicorn. The unicorn.” I gave him a meaningful look to try to convey whom I meant. “He approached me on school grounds while I was out near the greenhouses. He wants me to go on a date with him.”

  Thatch lifted an eyebrow. “What an honor.”

  I leaned closer, whispering. “He asked if you wanted more unicorn . . . stuff. He shouldn’t even be on school grounds. If you hadn’t made me do that thing, he wouldn’t have come today.”

  The corners of his mouth twisted into cruel smirk. “Did I hear you correctly? He wouldn’t have . . . come?”

  “Shut up!” I had yelled at Thatch in front of students before. The cafeteria was so noisy and his voice such a low rumble, no one even glanced at us until I shouted.

  “I thought you like puns, Miss Lawrence. Who would have ever thought you would chastise me for having a sense of humor?” Thatch chuckled.

  “I am trying to have a serious conversation with you. What if he corrupts the students?”

  He laughed even harder. “No unicorn could possibly corrupt the students at this school. It’s more likely to be the other way around. The students at that quaint private academy, Hannah Walsh’s Hedgewitch High—that’s a different story.” He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at the tears in the corners of his eyes.

  Students nudged each other and stared at him.

  “By the way, I hope you told your unicorn yes to collecting more . . . specimens.”

  “I’m not collecting any more gross stuff,” I whispered. “It makes me feel like a prostitute.”

  “Even for Derrick?” He said it in such a mocking way, I wondered if the first collection had truly been for Derrick.

  Someone nudged me. Josie smiled at me in her good-natured way as she seated herself beside me, but her eyes were narrowed, taking in Thatch. “Hey, guys. What are you two conspiring about?”

  “Hay is for horses.” Thatch said, his smile turning malicious. “And unicorns.” He burst into laughter again.

  “I don’t know how to get rid of Bart,” I said, glaring daggers at him. “You started this. I need you to help me get rid of him.”

  “Who’s Bart?” Josie asked.

  Josie looked from me to Thatch, eyebrows raised. There was no getting out of this one. “I’ll fill you in after school.”

  “Technically he’s Fae and suffers from the same weaknesses,” Thatch said. “You’re always carrying some kind of forbidden Morty device with you. You could try electrocuting him.”

  Josie gasped.

  “I need a solution to get rid of him without killing him,” I said. “Or being mean.”

  “I can give you plenty of solutions. You just won’t like any of them because they’ll involve hurting his feelings. There isn’t anything worse than a unicorn with a broken heart. Wouldn’t you say, Miss Kimura?”

  This is exactly why I hated having Thatch as a mentor: him and his snarky comments and lack of compassion.

  Josie looked from Thatch to me. “You’ve got to be kidding me. A unicorn is crushing on you? And Thatch’s best suggestion is to kill him? Poaching is illegal.”

  I picked up my tray of food and moved to a place at the table farther away from him. “Come on,” I said to Josie.

  She lifted her nose at him, indignant enough for the two of us.

  “By the way,” Thatch said, raising his voice. “I need your assistance collecting another ingredient on the list. You’re welcome.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A Virgin’s Tears

  Helping Thatch collect anything was the last thing I wanted to do after what I’d just been through with Bart. I had to remind myself this was for Derrick. I hoped this was for Derrick. I prayed this wasn’t all going to be a big joke Thatch was playing on me.

  I sat in the hard metal chair in Thatch’s office after my seven a.m. affinity lesson, shifting uncomfortably. His crow pecked at the cage. The black cat I’d seen previously groomed itself next to Thatch’s desk, occasionally glancing over at the bird. He still hadn’t told me what we needed to collect next.

  The door to his office was closed and locked. We had enough privacy that we could speak freely about this matter.

  “Well?” I asked. “What’s the next ingredient?”

  Thatch folded his hands calmly in front of him. “There are two ingredients for you. The first one is a long shot, a dragon’s egg. Ask your friend Bart if he knows of any dragons.”

  “Isn’t that kind of . . . unethical? That’s a dragon’s unhatched baby.” I’d read people didn’t collect dragon eggs because they were the equivalent of an endangered species, poached for their magical properties by scummy Witchkin and Fae alike.

  Thatch waved me off dismissively. “Dragons are merely big chickens without feathers. Unlike mundane avians, they tend to hoard gold and treasure, and unlike most birds, they congregate with other magical beasts like unicorns.” He tossed back his long beautiful hair over his shoulders, the light of the chandelier glistening on each strand as though it were made of electric cobalt. “On to the easier item. I need a virgin’s tears.” His thick eyebrows rose expectantly.

  Ugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” And he was asking me because, of course, he already knew I was a virgin if I attracted unicorns.

  “No. The fact of the matter is this ingredient is a substitution, just as the unicorn’s seed is to be used in place of the horn. It would be far less appropriate to ask for blood collected from a virgin’s deflowering. Therefore, tears will have to do.”

  “Oh, um, right.” My every conversation with Thatch always led to some über awkward topic. “And that substitution will work?”

  “The spell and the potion are not an exact science. It is an art.” He lifted his chin and held himself in that superior way that let the world know he was an artist of magic. “One may follow a recipe for spaghetti, or one can have enough of an understanding of the potential ingredients and desired outcome to add and substit
ute for a more robust and appetizing meal.”

  He handed me a glass vial. It was smaller than some of the other ones he’d given me for unicorn urine at least.

  “Do you have a spell or something to make me cry?” I asked.

  “No, the tears can’t be tainted by magic. It needs to happen organically.”

  The cat jumped onto his desk, scattering a neatly stacked pile of graded papers. For good measure, she tipped over his ostrich quill, splattering ink across his desk.

  “What did I tell you about the ink?” Thatch admonished the cat, talking to her as though she were human—like he did with Priscilla.

  “Is that a new familiar or one of your sisters?” I asked.

  “Neither. Focus on crying.” He lifted the cat from his desk and set her on the floor. She butted her head against his leg, wanting to be petted, but he ignored her.

  I tried to think of something sad, but it felt too ridiculous to cry on demand. He stared at me expectantly. Uncomfortably, I giggled instead.

  “You are impossible,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “I know you are perfectly capable of carrying out this task. I’ve seen you shed tears before. What’s the last event that made you cry?”

  My nightmares of Julian, but I wasn’t going to say that. I didn’t want to go there. I’d been miserable after Thatch had refused to talk about kissing me and had pushed me away, but I hadn’t cried. I’d just obsessed over it. I had felt guilty about using Bart, but that hadn’t made me cry—only cringe.

  I cleared my throat. “There have been a couple times I’ve had a bad day and my students were mean that I cried. Or that one time when you came into my classroom and yelled at me for being incompetent after the kids glued me to the ceiling.”

  “Right. You need someone to insult you. I can do that.” He cracked his knuckles. “You’re stupid and ugly and fat.” He smiled as though quite pleased with himself. “How does that make you feel?”

  I tried not to laugh. “You aren’t even trying.” Those were so obviously not true, they couldn’t even be considered mean.